oneshots (> 1,000 words):
alien life form
you spend the night at Eddie's for the first time.
fried egg I'm in love
Eddie makes you breakfast.
down on skid row
you've been seeing Eddie for a while. he likes taking you to the movies.
the rocky horror eddie show
you help Eddie get ready for a special night.
christmas wrapping
you're spending xmas eve alone, but so is Eddie. insp. by the song by the waitresses.
bloodletting / lost souls
you're kind of dead. but so is Eddie, just in a different way.
scorch and magic
you're embarrassed about one of your interests, but Eddie puts your mind at ease.
i need a hero
Eddie comes to the rescue when you're upset at a party.
hocus pocus
Eddie goes trick-or-treating with you and your daughter.
shorter blurbs (<1,000 words):
comfort blurb
you're not feeling your best. Eddie gives you some much needed comfort.
thanksgiving blurb
Eddie's making a pie. it's not going well.
sick blurb
Eddie's sick. you have a little surprise to cheer him up.
sleepy blurb
you're sleepy. Eddie can't help but love on you.
shopping blurb
Eddie goes shopping with you.
wedding blurb
you and Eddie attend a wedding together.
"Eddie-is-a-menace" blurb
you're Eddie's dream girl. it's too bad you can't stand him.
period blurb
Eddie takes care of you on your period.
birthday blurb
it's Eddie's birthday. has everyone forgotten?
series:
read 'em and weep
you and Eddie meet at the library. he's smitten.
read 'em and weep #2
you and Eddie have an impromptu lunch.
read 'em and weep #3
you and Eddie spend more time together. romance blossoms.
read 'em and weep #4
you hear some rumors about Eddie.
read 'em and weep #5
you're acting weird. Eddie decides to do something about it.
bark at the moon
there's something super weird in your garage. your best friend Robin calls her old pals, Steve and Eddie, to come and take a look.
events:
eddie, my love!
a collection of valentine-themed oneshots featuring our favorite guy.
hello :^) been very inactive, haven't posted a fic in almost a year (!!!), but tonight I was just going back through some old WIPs and surprisingly I came across one that I really like!
it's at about 3500 words right now, I actually feel like I could polish it up and finish it. it's a neighbor!eddie x reader fic, very cute and fluffy. just hoping to gauge if there's any interest?
hello :^) been very inactive, haven't posted a fic in almost a year (!!!), but tonight I was just going back through some old WIPs and surprisingly I came across one that I really like!
it's at about 3500 words right now, I actually feel like I could polish it up and finish it. it's a neighbor!eddie x reader fic, very cute and fluffy. just hoping to gauge if there's any interest?
hello :^) been very inactive, haven't posted a fic in almost a year (!!!), but tonight I was just going back through some old WIPs and surprisingly I came across one that I really like!
it's at about 3500 words right now, I actually feel like I could polish it up and finish it. it's a neighbor!eddie x reader fic, very cute and fluffy. just hoping to gauge if there's any interest?
Eddie goes trick or treating with you and your daughter.
Contains: Eddie x Mom!Reader, coordinated costumes, general sweetness, baby OC (Eddie is "mom's boyfriend" here). No use of Y/N, no description of reader's appearance.
Warnings: none!
Word Count: ~1,400
hope everyone is enjoying spooky season thus far!
Eddie squishes the phone between his cheek and his shoulder so he can retain free use of his hands. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you cheerfully, while scrubbing his plate in the sink. “How’s it going?”
You sound a little breathless when you respond, “Oh, good. Just got an early dinner in m’girl here, so I wanted to let you know that we’re gonna get dressed and head out soon. You’re still coming with us, right?”
Eddie grins. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”
“’Kay. See you in a bit!”
Dry leaves scuttle and crunch underneath the tires of Eddie’s van as he pulls up to your house. It’s cool and breezy, the light just starting to dim, and there are already a number of children scampering down the sidewalks on their quest for free candy. Eddie glances at his wrist to check the time before knocking on your front door, which is covered in swaths of fake cobweb, plastic spiders clinging to the fibers, and bordered in tiny orange lights.
It swings open and you’re standing before him, beaming in your costume: a black velvet dress that sort of floats around your figure, the hem stopping just above your stockinged knees, with a pointed black hat to match.
“Hi!” You lean forward for a hello kiss, which Eddie eagerly gives you. When he pulls away, he keeps his hands on your shoulders, smirking as he gives you another approving once-over.
“Well, don’t you look every inch the witch?”
You give him a demure curtsy. “Thank you,” you reply, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside the house. “Wait until you see Josie’s costume!”
Your excitement is contagious, and Eddie finds himself impatient to see the little girl in her Halloween garb. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be this giddy about spending the holiday with a two-year-old, he’d laugh in their face.
But oh, how things change.
He can feel the dopey grin unfurl across his face as you tug him along to the living room, where your little daughter is sitting on the couch, looking positively tiny curled up against the big pillows.
“Look who’s here, baby!”
Josie’s eyes get big when she sees who’s standing next to you. “Eddie!” she cries in her baby cadence, squirming to get down off the couch.
He saves her the trouble, leaning down to scoop her up in his arms. “Hi, Jo,” he croons, cradling her against his chest and dropping a kiss on her head. In return, she smiles and pats his cheek.
“Look at you! You’re so cute,” he cheers, bouncing her gently up and down, making her giggle. Just like you, she’s outfitted in all black – but instead of a witch’s hat, atop her head is a set of black cat ears, to match the whiskers drawn across her chubby cheeks.
“Kitty,” she says with a sage nod.
“That’s right,” Eddie agrees. “You’re a kitty cat.”
The rapid shutter and click of a Polaroid camera takes him by surprise; he whirls around to look at the culprit — you, with the incriminating photograph pinched between your fingers. “What?” you ask him innocently.
Eddie laughs, somewhat embarrassed. “Nothin’,” he shrugs. “Just...are you sure you want me in your pictures? I don’t want you wasting good film.”
You soften visibly, and step closer to him so you can rub his bicep soothingly. “Of course we want you in our pictures,” you tell him, speaking for yourself and your daughter, stating it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Even though you couldn’t be bothered to show up in costume,” you add sadly, pouting in feigned disappointment.
His eyes light up. “Almost forgot.” He shifts Josie’s weight to one arm and fishes around in the pocket of his denim jacket with his free hand, and pulls out a headband with red devil horns. He pushes it into his curly locks, grinning broadly. “See? I’m all ready to go.”
“I stand corrected,” you comment admiringly. “Very nice.”
“Simple, yet effective.” Eddie bounces Josie in his arms once more to get her attention. “What do you think, Jo? Do I look scary?” He rolls his eyes back and lets his tongue fall out of his mouth, making her giggle.
“Scary!”
But she says it with so much delight that you and Eddie can’t help but join in her laughter.
“Alright, you two.” You hold up the camera again, spying him and your daughter through the viewfinder. “We got our candid shot. Nice smiles for this one!”
Eddie positions Josie so that she’s facing the camera, and presses his cheek against her hair. “Okay, baby. Smile for Mama,” he coos, pointing in your direction. She doesn’t really need to be told, being the happiest baby there is, but he encourages her nonetheless. She places one little hand on Eddie’s chest, and he just about melts at the contact.
“Say cheese!”
“Cheese!”
“Okay,” says Eddie, blinking from the flash, “now your turn. Every witch needs her cat.” He swaps your baby for the camera, and you cuddle up to her in the same way Eddie did, nosing at her soft hair before putting on your best smile.
Eddie snaps a few pictures of you and your daughter together, both serious and silly. When the photoshoot is over, you wrangle with Josie to get her shoes on before she tries to escape the house barefooted.
Eddie watches, letting her plastic jack-o-lantern bucket dangle from one finger. “Do you remember what to say when someone opens the door, Josie?”
Her little face scrunches in concentration. You lean over and cup your hand over your ear, reminding her of her line in a whisper. When you pull away, you reassure her, “Just like we practiced, sweetheart.”
“Trickertreat!” You and Eddie share a grin. Her words all blur together, almost unintelligibly, all her r’s sounding more like w’s, but she’s got the gist of it.
“And then what do you say, when someone gives you a piece of candy?”
“Thank yewww!”
“Good girl!” you coo at her. Finishing the knot in her shoelaces, you haul her gently to her feet. Eddie bends down and sweeps her up into his arms again, smiling from ear to ear.
“Are you ready, Jo?”
She simply giggles in response, fidgeting excitedly.
“Alright team,” he orders. “Let’s head on out. My girl’s in dire need of some candy.”
You look at him skeptically, your tone playful. “Is she? Or are you the one in dire need of some candy, Munson?”
He purses his full lips. “Well, she can’t eat it all herself...”
You press a finger to his chest. “If I catch you pilfering from my daughter’s stash, literally stealing candy from a baby —”
“I would never!” he cries in mock outrage. He leans in to stage-whisper in Josie’s ear. “Do you hear what your mother is accusing me of? She treats me like I’m some common criminal. A mere petty thief.”
“Oh, please.”
Eddie carries Josie outside and down the porch steps, down the front walkway, stopping when he reaches the sidewalk. “I’m gonna put you down, okay babe?”
“Yeah.”
With a tiny huff from the little girl, her feet are planted firmly on the ground. She throws her head back so she can look all the way up at him, blinking her wide eyes.
Amused, he tilts his own head forward so he can stare directly back down at her, curly tendrils falling around his face.
Wordlessly, she sticks one arm out, fingers wiggling.
Eddie hands her the jack-o-lantern basket, which she takes and disinterestedly sets on the ground next to her. The arm goes back up.
He’s confused, until you wrap your arm around his waist and clarify, “She wants you to hold her hand, Ed.”
“Oh!” His cheeks tinge pink. “Of course.”
Josie’s small hand is practically swallowed up inside his big one, and she gives him a toothy smile. She picks up the candy basket with her free hand and starts toddling forward.
The three of you move slowly together, keeping pace with her short stride. Other kids skirt around your group, impatient to get to as many houses as possible, but you and Eddie pay them no mind.
He’ll walk slowly with her, hand in hand, for as long as she pleases.
Contains: Eddie x Reader, established relationship, midnight movies, flirty talk, you put makeup on Eddie and he loves every second of it. Reader is wearing makeup/costume like Magenta in the film, but otherwise there's no description of appearance, and no use of Y/N.
Warnings: brief dry-humping & finger-sucking, but no actual smut (sorry!)
Word Count: ~1.8k
we're going to completely ignore the fact that there is an actual character named Eddie in RHPS, mostly because I'm too busy thinking about our Eddie wearing Tim Curry’s lingerie. anyway -- it's almost October, so happy spooky season babes! this is short & mostly unedited, but I hope you enjoy!
“Ed, hold still.”
“Sorry.”
The position you and Eddie are in is both familiar and unfamiliar.
He’s sitting in your vanity chair while you straddle his lap. Your legs are slotted neatly around his hips, the soft middle between your legs pressed against the – well, not quite so soft middle between his legs. He encircles you in his arms, his hands lacing together at the small of your back, to help keep you upright and close.
It’s a lovely, fleshy entwinement that Eddie’s come to know very well. It’s the sort of affection his mind will wander to often when he starts missing you, which is anytime you’re not right next to him.
He just likes to be close to you.
But what’s unusual about this occasion is the sensation of a soft makeup sponge, pinched between your thumb and index finger, dabbing gently at his face. Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth in concentration as you press the foundation into his skin.
“Look up for me.”
Eddie lets his head fall back so all you can see is his throat.
“No, I mean with your eyes.”
“Oh.”
He faces you again and grins at your amused expression. You notch a finger under his chin and tilt his head up ever so slightly, while he gazes towards the ceiling. The sponge taps makeup lightly over the thin skin beneath his eyes.
“That feels so weird.”
“This foundation’s a little oily, I know,” you tell him apologetically. “The brand I usually use didn’t have a color that I thought looked right for this.”
“I feel like I’m wearing a mask,” he says gleefully. “Lemme see.”
You release him and put the sponge down, so he can get a good look at his reflection in the vanity mirror.
“Wow,” he says. “I’m glowing.”
You laugh. “You are radiant, my love.” In truth, the makeup is just very white, even for Eddie’s pale skin. That’s what you intended, but it is a bit garish with no other products applied.
Eddie doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care. “I look so smooth!”
“Here, let me set it so it doesn’t smear.”
Eddie’s both fascinated and bewildered by the mess of cosmetics on your vanity. There are little pots of all shapes and sizes filled with powders and creams, in every color he can think of. Some of them glitter and shimmer in the light, and there are stubby pencils for lips and eyes and who knows what else, and brushes. Big and small and puffy and tapered, many already dusted with mysterious pigments. And he can’t help but keep glancing over at the half-opened zipper pouch that’s overflowing with lipsticks.
He’s elated when you pick up the fluffiest brush you own, and use it to pick up a translucent powder. You begin swiping it methodically over his face in sections. He hums in contentment.
“Good?” you ask, sensing his enjoyment.
“Mm-hmm. I like that.” His eyes are closed, a serene smile on his lips.
You prolong the process for him, adding more feather light touches to his cheeks and nose, even though they don’t need them.
After an extra minute of pampering, you set the brush down. “I think…” You squint and pout your lips, leaning your face close to his own, debating your next course of action. “I wanna push that in with a powder puff. Just so it really sticks.”
“Whatever you say, boss. You’re the professional.”
Eddie lets you play makeup artist, and enjoys every bizarre second of it. He likes the way your hands flutter about, and the soft instruments caressing his skin; the tender stroke of your fingers smudging and smoothing in the products; the way you turn him this way and that way, always gentle, never harsh. He finds himself in a trancelike state, perfectly happy to let you carry out your ministrations without protest.
“Okay,” you mumble to yourself. “We’re looking good so far, I think.”
Eddie’s now sporting a smooth white face, and deep contour beneath his cheekbones, which subtly blends into the warm blush you’ve put on him. The base looks quite nice, if you do say so yourself. The black eyeshadow is packed on all the way up to his brows, but it’s still slightly patchy.
You frown and pick up the brush again, going back in to add more.
“This is really smart, baby, with the paper.”
Eddie’s doing his part by holding a thin sheet of tissue beneath his eye to catch the fallout. The last thing you want is for the sooty powder to get everywhere and ruin your hard work.
“I’ve got lots of tricks up my sleeve, Munson. Tricks you wouldn’t even believe.”
“Is that so?” he says salaciously, the look in his eye wicked. He moves one hand to your back again, this time sneaking under your dress to rub small circles into the naked skin. You shiver at his touch.
“Yes. And if you be a good boy and let me finish, maybe I’ll show you one tonight.”
It’s his turn to tremble. “I feel like you already have, with that outfit.”
You smile coyly at him, but secretly you’re relieved. You had felt a little silly when you bought the maid outfit, but as soon as you modeled it for him, your insecurity vanished – he nearly pounced on you right then and there. Now, between the costume and the paint job you’ve done on your own face, he’s basically mush.
Your makeup is a softer reflection of Eddie’s, dark and feminine and a tad ghoulish. Falsies and loads of mascara clump your spidery lashes together, and your mouth is slick with layers upon layers of crimson lacquer. You love it and so does he.
He shifts you closer, so your core is pressed right over the bulge in his black satin panties. His lips ghost over yours. “My pretty baby,” he says, breath dancing over the sticky gloss.
You swallow thickly. “We’ll be late. Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you whisper back, although your heart screams for him to do just that.
He presses a sloppy wet kiss to your chin, but relents, settling back in the chair again.
It’s going to take a tremendous effort to stay focused on the task at hand. But you try to finish applying Eddie’s eye makeup anyway.
Giving up on the brush, you end up sticking your whole finger in the pot of black eyeshadow. “Close your eyes again, please.”
You darken the shadow with the pad of your finger, and the natural oils of your skin allow more pigment to stick to his lids. “There we go…”
A bit more color, and a little more blending, you think the eyeshadow is up to snuff. You pick up a black liner and wiggle it before him.
“Well, this next part should be easy for you!” Eddie’s rocked smudgy eyeliner for more than one Corroded Coffin show, and he nods in confirmation.
“Bring it.”
You do, and he handles it like a pro – no twitching or watery eyes for Eddie.
He is a little bit shocked when you drag the same liner over the tops of his eyebrows, though. And then even more so when you trace it lightly around the edges of his already-full lips.
“It’ll blend with the lipstick,” you answer in response to his questioning look.
You apply a coat of mascara to his lashes, internally noting with a tinge of envy that he doesn’t even really need it.
“Almost done!” you huff with excitement, extremely pleased with the work you’ve accomplished. “This is the best part.” You uncap a tube of lipstick, revealing a shiny bullet of red cream, in a shade even deeper and darker than the one you’re wearing. “Ready?”
He nods giddily.
You pucker your lips at him, and he mimics the action. You can’t resist the opportunity to reach out and give him a sweet little peck.
Then, with careful precision, you color in Eddie’s lips. You open your mouth in a wide “O,” nudging him to do the same. He follows your instructions obediently, silently copying each face you make while you apply the lipstick.
“Okay, now go like this.” You smush your lips closed and rub them together. Eddie giggles and does the same. His face splits into a wide smile when he’s done, revealing a red smear on his front teeth.
You stick your pointer finger out for him. “Now you blot.”
His brow wrinkles in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Like this.” You demonstrate for him, popping a finger in your mouth. You keep your lips closed around it while you pull it back out, and show him your finger so he can examine the excess lipstick you’ve removed. “See?”
Understanding now, and sporting a devilish grin, he takes your hand in his, and guides the same finger towards his mouth. He sucks hard on the digit for a moment, swirling his tongue around it, big doe eyes locked onto yours. Then he slowly, slowly slides your finger out of his mouth, and releases it with a wet squelch, giving it an almost-kiss upon its exit. When he’s finally finished, a string of saliva connects the tip of your finger and his lips.
Your hips rock involuntarily, and the scratch of his fishnet-clad thighs against yours makes you moan. You both clutch at each other, and the room feels much warmer than it did a minute ago.
“You sure you don’t want me to start somethin’?” he asks smugly, all too pleased with the dizzy look on your face.
You almost cave.
“Eddie, we’re driving all the way to Indianapolis. We don’t have time.”
He pouts.
You pat his cheek in reassurance. “I’ll make it up to you later tonight, I promise.” You’re almost as disappointed as he is. You use your thumb to wipe the lipstick still smeared on his teeth.
With a sigh, you lean back from your seat on his lap in appraisal – an artist assessing their masterpiece.
“So? How do I look?”
“I think you look gorgeous.”
Close to midnight, when you the two of you arrive at the shabby movie theater on the outskirts of the city, beneath the lights of the marquee, Eddie causes quite a stir.
The black lingerie is striking against his pale skin, and the immodest corset puts all his tattoos out on display. The fishnet stockings are held up by a garter belt, and they wrap fetchingly around his strong, otherwise-bare legs. The makeup, thanks to your careful hand, is immaculate. He’s the stuff dreams are made of.
For you, the cherry on top is Eddie’s own natural dark curls, which complete the look, and make him a near-spitting image of Dr. Frank–N–Furter.
Watching him as he smokes a quick cigarette before heading inside, you think that it’s almost unfair, really, how beautiful he is.
Even if he is teetering away on those platform heels.
you’ve been seeing Eddie for a while. he likes taking you to the movies.
Contains: Eddie x Reader, meet-cute in the breakfast aisle, Eddie’s got a penchant for drive-in movie dates & convenience store munchies. No use of y/n, no description of reader’s appearance. Leans fem!reader, but can be read as GN, I think. (If not, just lmk and I'll change the tags!)
Warnings: mentions of food and eating.
Word Count: 2k
so i have a few longer WIPs that i’ve been working on for months that are still not finished (@ people who can pump out like 10k-word fics on a weekly basis…how do you guys do this) so i thought i’d post something short & sweet in the meantime. i know it’s only june, but i’m craving a cozy fall night with my fictional bf, okay?
It’s the middle of October. Dry leaves scuttle across the pavement in the breeze, dancing over your feet as you walk past the shops lining the Hawkins main drag, the setting sun washing everything in golden autumn light. Window fronts are decked out with pumpkins and twinkling orange bulbs, paper cutouts of bats and smiling cartoon ghosts. Even though you’re running late, you can’t help but slow your pace, stopping to admire the establishments that are particularly dedicated to celebrating the upcoming holiday.
Your shift working at the public library just ended after an impossibly slow day. Two librarians and three assistants were on the clock, which was certainly more than enough to handle the grand total of seven people that came in, but Marissa was a stickler for attendance. She refused to cut any of the employees loose, no matter how many pointed comments your gum-snapping coworker made about the lack of visitors.
It was hard to be too annoyed about it, though. It was peaceful in the quiet. Being surrounded by tall wooden shelves full of books with that lovely, earthy perfume, was very soothing to you.
There had also been a brief but enjoyable interlude from Dustin Henderson who, out of all of Eddie’s younger friends, was by far your favorite. He was looking for test-prep books in anticipation of the AP exams he’d be taking in the spring, but spent most of his time talking your ear off about the Dungeons and Dragons one-shot he was planning under Eddie’s tutelage. He said goodbye to you with a wave and the sunniest smile you’ve ever seen, and you continued to find it very hard to believe Eddie’s insistence that ‘Henderson is such a little shit,’ a declaration usually accompanied by a hmmph! and a dramatic eye roll.
You’re pretty sure he’s Eddie’s favorite, too.
Eddie. Just thinking of him made your lips curl up in an involuntary smile. You bring your hand to your face, trying to hide your giddy look from the passersby.
It’s been about four months since you met during a chance encounter at Bradley’s Big Buy.
You had been struggling to reach a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the top shelf in the cereal aisle, even going so far as to do a little jump in your effort to reach it, but your fingertips just barely brushed against the cardboard. With a huff, you stood on the very tips of your toes, and stretched your arms as far as they could go, but your digits simply wiggled uselessly in the air, not reaching anything further than the cool metal ledge.
“Need a hand with that?”
You turned to face your savior, grateful albeit a little sheepish upon realizing that someone had bore witness to your utter desperation for sugar-coated rectangles. You became about ten times more flustered when you found yourself staring into the most outrageously pretty brown eyes you’ve ever seen.
“I’m more of a Honeycomb guy myself, to be honest,” he said as he planted one foot on a low, empty shelf to give himself a boost. He grabbed the elusive box with ease and placed it in your cart.
After procuring your breakfast for you, Eddie tagged along for the rest of your shopping trip. He chatted you up through produce, past the bakery, and by the time you made it to the freezer aisle, well – you dug around in your purse for a pen and, at his request, scrawled your number on his forearm, right below a cluster of scratchy bat tattoos.
A week later he took you to a movie, but not to The Hawk in the townsquare or the Starcourt Cinema like you expected. No, Eddie kept it old-school. He drove a little ways past the busy part of town, past the Hess Farm, to the empty field where the local drive-in theater was located. You were pleasantly surprised; drive-ins seemed to be falling a bit out of vogue lately, and you could hardly remember the last time you’d been.
You saw a Beetlejuice and Poltergeist III double-feature, and over the course of two films, Eddie spilled an entire bag of popcorn on the ground mere seconds after buying it; nearly choked to death on a single Raisinet; and on his way back from the restroom, got lost in the sea of cars for a grand total of eight minutes.
You’ve never been so immediately attracted to someone. He was so funny, and so sweet, and so entirely himself. It was the best date you’ve ever been on.
Since then, the drive-in has sort of become your thing.
You check your watch; it’s nearly seven. The sun is sinking more rapidly now, and the shadows are growing longer. You bundle your jacket around you a little tighter against the twilight breeze, and pick up the pace.
Eventually you stumble through your front door, tossing your purse on the entry table, and rush to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable and date-appropriate. Itchy blouse and sensible slacks begone. You dress in the outfit you picked out last night, and quickly give yourself a once-over, touching up your hair and face just the way you like it. A final spritz of your favorite perfume, and you feel as fresh and pretty as can be.
There’s a rapid knock at the front door.
Perfect timing.
“It’s open!”
Moments later, Eddie appears, lingering in your bedroom doorway, looking perfect. He’s wearing a black pullover sweater that you bought for him, lightwash jeans – an unusual choice for him – and his favorite sneakers. The corners of his full, pink lips tug upwards in a smile as he watches you adjust an earring at your vanity. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Teddy.”
He appears behind you in the mirror and wraps his arms around your waist. “I missed you today.” He pecks your cheek lightly, and moves lower, so he can nose at the skin of your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. With a contented sigh, he straightens back up, and meets your gaze in the reflected glass. “You almost ready?”
“Yes.” You beam at him. “I missed you too.”
“Well,” he says, relinquishing his hold to just one arm, so he can pull you with him as he heads out of the room, “if that’s the case, then let’s not waste any more time.”
What Eddie lacks in game, he makes up for in chivalry. He escorts you all the way to the passenger side of his van, opens the door for you and helps you climb in. He doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re settled back in your seat.
You relax into the soft blue cushion while Eddie rotates through radio stations, nose wrinkled in distaste as he skips past each pop and new wave song that he hears. Finally settling on an old Van Halen tune, he rests his now-free hand on your leg, rubbing little circles into your thigh with his thumb. He casts you a hopeful sideways glance.
“I know the movie’s starting soon, but do you think we have time to stop at 7-Eleven?”
You know exactly where his head is at. “We always have time to stop at 7-Eleven.”
Eddie juggles an armload of snacks behind you at the Slurpee Machine.
“What flavor do you want, bub?”
“Umm, cherry, please. Wait. Coke. I don’t know. Hold on.” He pauses. “Coke or cherry…cherry or coke…coke or cherry…,” he trails off, voice fading to a whisper as he mulls over this incredibly important decision.
“I’ve got a coke already,” you tell him kindly. “Why don’t you get cherry, and then I promise you can have as much of mine as you want.”
He lets out a sigh of relief so huge you’d think you just solved a life or death dilemma for him. “Thank you, sweetheart. Truly, I don’t know what I did before you came along.” You wave him off, pretending like his affectionate teasing doesn’t set your heart aflutter.
“So I was thinking –” he shifts the horde of crinkling bags around before he can lose any, “maybe Cheetos? Because I think we got the pretzels last time. Or we can get the salt and vinegar chips, if you want.”
“Cheetos sound good to me. But I think I want to get something sweet, too.” You look down at the two Slurpees clutched in your hands, frowning slightly. “You know, that isn’t the big cup of sugar ice I just made for myself.”
Eddie laughs loudly. “You can have whatever you want,” he promises.
There’s a large, hand-painted sign at the entrance to the parking lot, embossed with bright orange letters and sitting slightly askew on its stake.
HAWKINS DRIVE-IN THEATER
SPECIAL OCTOBER SALE
Discount Horror Films Weekly, All Tickets Half-Price
Happy Halloween!
Luckily, the film has yet to start when Eddie pulls into a parking space in the middle of the lot. He jumps out of his seat, excitement building, and opens up the van’s back doors, revealing a large pile of soft, worn blankets, and several pillows from Eddie’s place that you’ve come to know very well.
You help him unfurl all the bedding and spread them out in layers over the interior, orienting the pillows on top so the trunk becomes one big, cozy, makeshift bed. The pile of junk food sits off to the side.
The blankets smell like Eddie. They’re all clean and soapy-smelling, with a hint of tobacco and spice from the drugstore cologne he wears. You slip your jacket off despite the cool temperature, and drape the remaining blanket over both yours and Eddie’s shoulders, bundling the two of you up against chilly fall night. He slips an arm around you, pulling you close into his side.
“Warm enough?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm,” you nod, cuddling into his shoulder.
He rests his cheek on the top of your head. “It’s getting cold out. This’ll probably be our last night here for a while. I’ll have to start taking you to”– he gulps loudly –“Starcourt Cinema. God help us!”
Eddie’s dramatics are nothing new to you, but you can’t help giggling anyway. “Don’t lie. I know you secretly love it there.”
“You know no such thing.”
You actually do know such a thing. He likes the music store and riding the escalator and Hot Dog on a Stick. But you digress.
The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence. It’s fully dark now, and the moon is glowing luminously against the inky sky. The wind picks up, and the thick line of trees behind the giant silver screen begin to rustle with the force of it. It’s a gorgeous night, and Eddie is warm next to you. You think you could do this with him forever.
Not one to stay quiet, it’s not long before Eddie pipes up again. “You know, I’m glad you’re not opposed to gas station snacks, because I still can’t show my face at the concession stand.”
“Oh, Teddy, people drop things all the time. No one cared.”
“Says you.” Maybe you can’t see it, but you can certainly hear the pout in his voice.
A rush of affection floods your chest. You push back a sheaf of thick curls, and press an indulgent little kiss to the pale skin below his ear.
A loud drumroll suddenly bursts from the speakers, snapping you both out of your reverie. The screen has become alight with a starry night sky. The gray logo of the production company hovers in the center, and is quickly replaced with the green text of the opening credits, accompanied by a musical fanfare.
“On the twenty-third day of the month of September, in an early year of a decade not too long before our own…”
Eddie shifts his body with you in tow so you’re both reclining comfortably against the pillows. “I love this one,” you whisper. “I know it’s not scary like Texas Chainsaw or whatever, but I’m glad they decided to show it.”
“Yeah, I saw the flier at Melvald’s and thought of you. I thought you’d enjoy seeing it like this.”
Eddie comes to the rescue when you're upset at a party.
Contains: Eddie x Fem!Reader. Fluff, hurt/comfort. very slight AU, just in that there's a tiny bit of King!Steve lingering. Tommy H is a jerk but Eddie is a sweetheart. and seen in his underwear...twice. No description of reader's appearance, no use of y/n.
Word Count: ~2,400
Warnings: none!
hello i am trying to figure out how to write for Eddie again! not edited, apologies for any mistakes & the rushed ending. enjoy friends <3
Eddie, sitting on the kitchen counter in his boxers, bowl of cereal on his lap, rolls his eyes at Jeff and answers him around a mouthful of Cap’n Crunch.
“Dude, no way.”
“Aw, c’mon —”
“I said no.”
It’s been a busy day today. He had an early, miserable shift at work, dealing with the absolute shitstorm of a morning rush by himself because his coworker called off. Then he was flitting back and forth across town, running some errands that Wayne had requested he take care of, if he so happened to be out and about — which he had been, because he was also making the weekend rounds dealing to his usual clientele. And then he stopped by the Sinclairs’ residence for Erica’s weekly guitar lesson and God, he loves the kid, he really does, but sometimes the sass was just a little too biting, even for him.
So when he finally came home, he starting pulling off his clothes as soon as walked through the door — t-shirt strewn over the chair, jeans puddled on the carpet — and collapsed on the couch in his skivvies. He was out in seconds. Deep, guttural snores could be heard even when standing on the stoop outside.
He was less than pleased when Jeff and Gareth showed up, hammering their fists against the door. It took a few tries, but Eddie, cranky and disheveled, finally opened the door. And not only did they have the audacity to wake him from his nap, but they were here to convince him to attend a party.
At Steve Harrington’s, of all places.
Eddie takes another bite of cereal, eyeing his friends suspiciously. “Why is Harrington still throwing parties, anyway? He graduated.”
“Because he lives at home in that giant, empty house,” says Gareth, like it’s obvious. “What, you get your diploma, and all of a sudden you’re not allowed to have a good time anymore?”
A bit of sugary milk catches in the corner of Eddie’s mouth, and he licks it away. “Look, I’m tired. And it’s not really my idea of a fun night out.” He could picture it now: he would be scowling away in the corner the whole time, beer in hand, watching people who didn’t like him get obnoxiously drunk and dance to bad music.
Jeff crosses his arms over his chest, lips pursed. “Your girl’s gonna be there.”
Eddie sets his bowl down and hops off the counter. “I’ll get dressed.”
In the tasteful entryway of the Harrington house, Eddie bites the inside of his cheek nervously. Looking around, it’s more or less what he expected — a sea of faces belonging to people that mostly ignore him and his friends, although a few sneers from green-and-gold-clad partygoers are sent their way as they walk through the house. And all while some awful Bonnie Tyler song is blasting in the background.
And it’s awfully crowded. Eddie, Gareth, and Jeff squeeze their way through the throng of people in the living room, over to where Grant is seated on the couch next to Dustin, who grins and gives them a dopey wave as they approach.
“Heeey,” he cheers. “You guys came!” He lurches off of the couch and leans in for…a hug? A high five? No one can tell because the toe of his sneaker catches on the rug, and he stumbles forward into Eddie, who catches him by the shoulders to steady him.
Harrington, standing several feet away but watching his young friend keenly, makes a face. “Dustin, take it easy, man. Go slow.”
Oh, Harrington’s playing babysitter. Guess that explains it.
“Yesss, Mom,” Dustin snarks, reaching around to pat Eddie on the back, who returns the gesture while stifling a laugh.
“How many drinks have you had?” Jeff asks him.
“One,” he says proudly.
“And his next one’s gonna be a glass of water,” Steve chimes in, making his way over to the group. He smiles politely around at everyone, but only addresses Eddie, because truthfully, he doesn’t actually know any of the other boys' names.
“Munson.”
Eddie nods, and replies stiffly, “Harrington.”
He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s beer in the kitchen.”
“Cool, man. Thanks.”
There’s an awkward pause. Steve makes his exit before the silence can become too unbearable. Jeff flops down on the couch next to Dustin.
“Wow, Henderson,” Gareth teases, “I can’t believe our little freshman got us an invitation to King Steve’s house.”
Dustin shrugs nonchalantly, but his goofy smile remains. “I got friends in high places,” he says, slurring slightly on the last s.
The boys quickly strike up conversation, but Eddie can’t focus on it; everyone’s voices blend together into one monotonous buzz. He’s here for one person, and one person only.
His dark eyes scan the room impatiently, trying to figure out if you’re here yet — if you’re even planning on showing up at all. Where did Jeff get his intel from, anyway?
“Grant, do you know if —?”
“Out by the pool,” Dustin butts in, all-knowing even in his inebriated state.
“Got it.”
Without hesitating Eddie makes for the back door that leads out to the pool area. Outside, the cool evening air is a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of the house; the lights from the in-ground pool casts a greenish glow over everything, adding to the more subdued atmosphere.
As though drawn to a magnet, Eddie’s gaze immediately lands on your form, huddled up on a pool chair, staring pensively at the water. He recognizes a few of your friends standing together a few feet away, chatting, but you don’t seem to be interested in joining the conversation.
Eddie clears his throat, walking over to you slowly.
You look up as he approaches. “Hey, you,” he says as casually as he can manage, plopping down on the seat across from you.
“Hi Eddie,” you return, with a small smile that doesn’t quite touch your eyes.
“How are you this fine evening?” He cringes inwardly at his dorky tone. God.
You shrug, unhappy but not really wanting to be a downer at what was supposed to be a fun party. “A little tired, if I’m being honest, but," you raise a fist in half-hearted perseverance, "I’m working on it!”
Eddie frowns, a wrinkle forming between his brows as he looks closer at your expression. “Not in a party mood? Well, me either. My buddies all but dragged me out here.” Not exactly what happened, but he digresses.
You suck air in through your teeth. “Oh, I know that feeling.”
He rolls his eyes. “Ugh, friends. They’re the worst, amiright?”
You groan. “Yes. When they wanna hang out with you and have a good time with you in a festive environment? Just awful. They love to torture us.”
Even in your moment of playful banter, it’s hard to keep the mild distress from clouding your features. Eddie, almost alarmingly perceptive, doesn’t miss it. He leans in, and lowers his voice.
“Did something happen?”
You shake your head, but he knows you’re lying.
Resting a large hand on your thigh, he asks, “Are you sure?” The weight of his calloused palm, warm even through the denim of your jeans, is a comforting presence.
“It’s silly,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.
“It’s not,” he insists, firm but gentle. “Whatever it is.”
You hold your breath for a moment, before releasing it in a heavy sigh. “Tommy H is here.”
Eddie doesn’t even need to hear more before a grimace spreads across his face.
You hesitate before speaking again. “I was wearing a new bracelet, and I took it off to let Stacy try it on,” you quietly explain, rubbing your naked left wrist with the opposite hand, “and he just took it. Threw it in the deep end of the pool and it sunk to the bottom. I can’t get it out with the skimmer, and it’s too cold to jump in and get it…” you trail off, squirming, face feeling hot.
Relaying this to Eddie, you’re incredibly embarrassed. It feels very childish to let yourself be upset over something so trivial.
Calm down, Carol had said. It’s not like it’s gone forever…you’ll get it back in the summer!
Her snarky laugh echoes in your ears.
“He’s such a fucking tool.” Eddie breaks you out of your reverie, face scrunched in anger on your behalf. He twists his upper body so he can turn and stare at the water. “Where did he throw it?”
You rest an elbow on your knee, cupping your chin in your hand. “On the other end, by the diving board.”
Eddie rises to his feet, peeling his leather jacket off. He’s wearing only a black t-shirt underneath, worn and soft-looking; you don’t miss the sliver of soft white tummy that’s exposed as he tosses his jacket aside.
Your eyes widen. “What’re you doing?”
He kicks his shoes off, and then peels off his socks. “Getting your bracelet back.”
There’s a catch in your throat. “Oh, Eddie, no —”
“Shush. It’s no biggie.”
Eddie steels himself for what he’s about to do next. With his eyes closed, he shucks the rest of his clothing off until he’s standing in his checkered boxers. In front of you, and everybody else, and also God. Goosebumps break out over his exposed flesh.
“Ew, Munson, what the fuck are you doing?” Probably Carol, or Tina, or whoever — it doesn’t matter. They all might as well be the same person.
“Don’t mind me, folks,” he calls out, his voice determinedly light. He lets himself glance at you only once — one hand is clamped over your mouth in shock, but your eyes are shining.
Whatever that might mean.
He keeps his curly head high as he struts past the others standing around the Harrington’s pool area. There’s a chorus of jeers that follow him, and even one mocking wolf-whistle; someone else shouts, “Nobody wants to see that!”
He throws a middle finger in their general direction before jumping into the water.
It’s fucking freezing, Jesus, but he easily spies the chunky piece of jewelry laying against the tile. He quickly swims to the bottom, snags the bracelet in one hand, and uses his feet to propel himself back to the surface.
Both touched and horrified, you rush to the ledge of the pool and crouch by the water. Eddie paddles over to meet you, grinning triumphantly as he waves the bracelet above his head, a clunky thing made of pink and blue plastic.
“Got it!”
Half-laughing, half-frantic at the thought of him getting hypothermia, you grab at his slick forearms. “Get out of there!”
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”
Eddie climbs out of the pool with your help, and he starts trembling immediately upon exit. The cool air, once refreshing, now feels positively wintry on his wet skin, so it could just be that...or it could be the fact that you’re kind of holding him while he’s in his underwear.
Both, probably.
“Let’s get you inside,” you urge. “I don’t know if Steve has any towels out here.”
Clasping a hand around his bicep, you tug him back into the house and into the nearest bathroom, ignoring the second round of catcalls and confused stares sent your way.
You make him sit on the counter by the sink, and wrap a towel tightly around his torso, and then another. “You should not have done that, Eddie,” you chastise him, though you’re unable to keep the incredulous grin off your face. “You’re crazy!”
“Maybe I am,” he says nonchalantly, looking at you with a dreamy expression.
You grab a third towel, and drape it over Eddie’s head. “Hold still,” you order.
“Yes, ma’am.”
You scrub the towel through his soaked hair in an effort to dry the curls, though you suspect you’re fighting a losing battle. Still, you squeeze the terrycloth fabric gently around his locks, trying to stem the dripping.
Eddie lets himself revel in the feeling of your hands working over his hair — even if it is through a towel. He stares unabashedly at your face, pinched in concentration. You’re so close like this, just inches away from him, lips slightly parted and perfect…
Eventually, you give up and lay the towel aside. “Well, I think that’s as good as we’re gonna get. Unless you want me to steal Steve’s hairdryer,” you add slyly.
“M’good, babe. Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “Just gotta warm up, is all.”
Your hands come to rest on his shoulders and rub soothingly at the towel-wrapped skin.
“Thank you,” you murmur. “So much, Eddie, I can’t even tell you.”
“Please. I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he replies.
A shy silence falls over the two of you. You notice for the first time that your middle is resting against the counter, right between Eddie’s legs.
Fiddling with a loose thread on the towel, you avoid his gaze, knowing that those dark irises will swallow you right up if you dare to meet them. “You’re really nice, you know that?”
“Only to you.”
You let out a quiet laugh. “That’s not true, and you know it.”
He shrugs. “Fine. I’m reluctantly nice to other people. But I’m only willingly nice to you.”
You risk a quick glance at his face. “Your…your lips are blue, Eddie.”
“Are they?” He smiles at you knowingly. A gentle hand comes to rest on your lower back, keeping you in place.
Your breath hitches. You feel like you could melt into a puddle. “Yes.”
“They’re pretty cold, I guess. Do you think…maybe, you could help me with that?”
“I…I think I can, yes.”
Eddie’s lips crash into yours. His hands come up to lovingly cradle your face, securing your mouth to his. He’s pleasantly surprised when your tongue slips into his mouth, and he eagerly deepens the kiss, trying not to smile when he feels you shiver.
“Okay, pretty girl?” he mumbles against your lips.
“Y-yes,” you stutter out, clutching at him, suddenly self-conscious. Sensing the tension, he strokes your cheekbone with his thumb soothingly, then pecks at your lips again, once, twice, a third time.
His expression is so soft when he pulls back to look at you. He doesn't let go of your face. “I’ve been wanting to do that for forever,” he admits.
Your heart leaps. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“Oh,” you breathe.
He smiles crookedly. “Wouldn’t jump in that pool for just anybody, y’know?”
You pat his chest in gratitude. “That’s very sweet of you Eddie, to risk hypothermia on my behalf.”
“Speaking of which, I’m still feeling a little chilled,” he complains. “Do me a favor. Come a little closer, would ya?”
hi lovely! just wanted to let u know i’m rereading bloodletting and its companion AGAIN 🖤‼️
i’m so so so obsessed and i hope u are doing well!
just thought u might like to know ur art has made a lasting impact :)) 🌙🩸⚰️
how am I just now seeing this! you are sooo sweet 🥰 and it’s esp nice to hear about this fic in particular, because it’s a little more niche than my other works. and sometimes the more specific you get with your writing, the smaller its audience is — so that’s so nice to hear!! i appreciate you bb ❤️❤️❤️
